


if these lights are low enough

by Equifinal



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Ass worship if you squint, Bottom!Harvey, D/s undertones, Drinking, General poor decision making on behalf of everyone involved, Harvey Specter is the snark master of the universe, M/M, Minor Mike/Rachel, Power Play, Quinoa is definitely a comfort food, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 04:38:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2137248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Equifinal/pseuds/Equifinal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <span class="small">Mike lets out a theatrical sigh. “Ah, so <em>that’s</em> why Donna told me you moped for days after I left the firm. The prospect of me becoming your client after all that time as your associate offended your delicate sensibilities and upset the balance of power in your life."</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="small">He’s pretty sure if Harvey rolls his eyes any harder this evening he’s going to do himself some damage.</span>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	if these lights are low enough

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a Suits kink meme prompt - "It's interesting to see the new power dynamic between Mike and Harvey ie. on a more equal footing/more Mike-dominated. So I want to see how the power play would carry on into the bedroom. Ultimately sub!Harvey, but there can be a power struggle to get there."
> 
> Set directly after the events of _We're done_. Title stolen shamelessly from the Alex Clare song.

He feels guilty after Rachel leaves. 

Guilty, pissed off with himself because he _knows_ he’s overreacting, and increasingly desperate to forget the events of the last few days.

Mike packs his suitcase on autopilot and makes a resigned phone call to book himself a hotel room. It’s late, he feels more alone than he has in months, and he needs to catch up on god knows how many nights’ sleep. The problem is there’s an insistent part of his brain that knows a) he won’t be able to sleep no matter what; and b) the lateness of the hour wouldn’t deter the one person who’d make him feel less alone right now.

Mike almost laughs at the horrifying realisation that somewhere along the line, _Harvey Specter_ , of all people, has become his support system.

He’s halfway out the door of the apartment by the time he actually calls Harvey, having put it off for several minutes while mentally chastising himself for being pathetic. Mike’s not really expecting him to answer since, Harvey being Harvey, he’s probably caught up in something important or off being mysterious about his personal life. He’s surprised therefore when Harvey answers on the second ring, but not surprised at all that he skips past the pleasantries directly to “I’m assuming Rachel caught up with you, then.”

“Mmhmm,” Mike replies, phone sandwiched between his cheek and his shoulder as he maneuvers himself, his suit bag and his case towards the elevator. Then, in response to what seems to be a deliberately long pause from Harvey, he sighs and adds “I thought I’d be able to stay here without getting mad, but when she showed up it was all I could think about. I think I might just have broken it off.”

Harvey either senses the hurt in his voice, or knows him well enough to assess the practicalities of the situation before making him recount it. “Where are you staying tonight?” 

“I booked a room at the Soho Grand until I can decide what to do. Figured you and your apartment deserve more than to have to witness the pity party I’m about to throw myself.”

“Is this your way of saying the thread count in my guest room really is that bad?”

Harvey’s light-hearted mock offense is entirely for his benefit, and Mike is grateful for it. “You got me,” he chuckles. “That, and I’m in serious need of comfort food, which your quinoa-and-almond-milk-stocked kitchen simply cannot provide.”

Even though Mike can’t see him, he’s pretty sure Harvey is rolling his eyes.

“I’ll meet you in the lobby in half an hour. After I’ve finished this bowl of quinoa, of course.” Harvey says, sarcastically. “Left alone, you’ll probably clear the minibar and show up back at work looking like you haven’t slept in three days, at which point Jessica will attempt to have us both moved to the mailroom, and may well succeed.”

Mike knows that isn’t the real reason Harvey is doing this, and he knows that _Harvey_ knows he knows that, so he simply thumbs the elevator button for the ground floor and replies “Fine. But I’m ordering junk food, and I don’t wanna hear anything else about quinoa.”

*

True to his word, Harvey is waiting for him in the lobby of the Soho Grand when Mike arrives. He stays seated while Mike checks in, blending in so well with the classic decor and casual air of sophistication that Mike envies him for it. He still feels out of place at times like this, especially in a t-shirt and jeans, but for Harvey, who could only have been born in a three-piece suit, it’s the most natural environment in the world.

“I’m thinking pizza,” Mike says as the elevator sails its way up to the tenth floor. “But I’m willing to negotiate as long as whatever we get doesn’t require cutlery.”

Harvey shoots him a look, so he elaborates. “With the exception of ice-cream, comfort food must not require cutlery. That’s like, the number one rule.” 

“Well, if I’d realised we were regressing to the fifth grade rules I’d have brought Cheetos and Kool-aid too,” smirks Harvey as the doors open, which makes the corner of Mike’s mouth curl up even though he’s trying his best to look stubborn. 

“Just to keep you updated on how you’re doing in terms of emotional support this evening, right now I’d give you a two out of ten, and that’s only because I’m a generous person.”

Harvey grimaces. “A two? If you think I’m here for anything other than sarcastic comments and damage control I must be losing my touch.”

Mike lets them into the room and wastes no time sprawling unceremoniously out on the bed, phone already glued to his ear. Harvey, to his credit, does not protest as he orders the pizza.

“Thanks.” Mike says, suddenly quiet after he’s finished the order and puts down the phone.

“What for?”

“You know what for. Coming over here. Not asking me about Rachel.”

Harvey spends a few seconds inspecting the set of miniature bottles on one of the dressers before pouring two glasses of what, knowing Harvey, can only be Scotch. He hands one to Mike and pulls up a chair so he can face him on the bed. “You didn’t seem like you wanted to talk about it. Was I wrong?”

Mike remembers that there are very few people who get to see Harvey like this, with some of the bravado lost for now. He shrugs, takes a long drink and makes a face.

“Pace yourself there, Junior,” Harvey warns in a way that for once is more affectionate than serious, so Mike lets the ‘Junior’ slide.

“I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to not think about it. Between this and Sidwell, it feels like everything has just spiralled.”

Harvey takes a more measured sip of his own drink and loosens the knot of his tie a fraction. “People make choices, and people make mistakes. I’m not here to tell you what to do about either.”

“You’re _not_ here to tell me what to do?” Mike tries to keep his laugh from sounding bitter, but it seems to only be a partial success. “Can I get that in writing? I guess there really is a first time for everything." 

Harvey shoots him a smug grin. “You’re right, it’s far more gratifying being your boss. Being able to order people around should be appended to my own personal list of constitutional rights.”

Mike lets out a theatrical sigh. “Ah, so _that’s_ why Donna told me you moped for days after I left the firm. The prospect of me becoming your client after all that time as your associate offended your delicate sensibilities and upset the balance of power in your life."

He’s pretty sure if Harvey rolls his eyes any harder this evening he’s going to do himself some damage.

“There’s no way in hell Donna said that to you, and I don’t mope.” 

“She must have accidentally confused your reaction to an unsatisfactory cup of coffee for something on the actual scale of human emotion. Easy mistake to make.”

“Easy mistake for _you_ to make,” Harvey says, pointedly. “Which is why I’m still in charge.”

Before Mike can conjure up a witty enough response, his phone starts to vibrate, and he leaps back to his feet. “Pizza’s in the lobby.”

“That was fast,” Harvey sounds impressed.

“I called in a favour with a friend.” Mike laughs at Harvey’s expression. “See, you might be able to get us a judge at a moment’s notice, but I wield the true power of having friends in high places, so we all know who the real winner is here." 

Harvey gestures towards the door. “I take back what I just said. _This_ is why I’m still in charge.”

*

Several drinks and most of two pizzas later, Mike feels a hell of a lot better. The fact that Harvey refuses to pity him or go easy on the sarcasm probably has more to do with his change in mood than the food or the alcohol, but coming to terms with the idea of Harvey being a comfort to have around at times like this is a little more than Mike can deal with right now.

Finishing his beer (the Scotch has long since been consumed) Harvey asks him, “Are you ready to move back to the big leagues tomorrow, after your little field trip to Wall Street?”

“Call it a field trip if it makes you feel better, but we both know you just couldn’t handle going toe-to-toe with me anymore,” laughs Mike. He rolls over and briefly disappears as he pokes his head into the minibar, emerging with two more bottles of beer and throwing one in the vague direction of where Harvey has taken up residence, perched on the other side of the bed. “Just you wait. Now I’m not your associate anymore, there’s nobody around to be a bad influence on me.” He pops the bottle top off on the edge of the nightstand and takes a long swig. “I give it two months before they move me to Partner track.”

“Oh yeah?” Harvey grins. “I didn’t realise that pizza you ordered came with a large side order of bullshit.”

Mike clutches at his chest in mock agony. “You burn me Harvey, you really do. Admit it, you don’t know what to do with yourself now you’re not my boss anymore.”

“The clue is in the name. Pearson _Specter_. So I hate to break it to you, but I still own your ass. The best you can hope for right now in terms of career advancement is staying put while I remind Jessica every few hours that it would look too suspicious if we turf you out right after hiring you back.”

Mike sighs. “It’s a pity. Pearson Specter Ross has a nice ring to it.”

“Somewhere,” Harvey remarks, “Jessica just experienced a full-body tremor at the prospect of that becoming a reality.”

Mike bursts out laughing and tries to guide his mind away from the fact that he’s sitting on a hotel room bed with his on-again-off-again boss, and neither of them are entirely sober. He tries to tell himself they’re just comfortable around each other, but he’s not actually drunk enough to believe that yet.

“You don’t think me and the commendable negotiation skills I picked up during my fictitious law degree at Harvard could get me anywhere with Jessica?” He jokes.

“I’ve seen five year-olds negotiate more effectively for candy.”

“Hey!” Mike feigns annoyance. “I might not have gone to law school but I’m still a decent negotiator. As much as I hate to admit it, I picked up more than a few things as your associate.”

Harvey bumps his shoulder and looks intently at him, the expression on his face almost fond. “You’re a terrible negotiator. You always let your emotions get involved.”

And then, before Mike truly knows what he’s doing, he’s surged forward and is kissing Harvey, hard. His mind catches up with the rest of him after a few drawn-out seconds and he pulls back, feeling breathless and flushed like he hasn’t since he was a teenager.

“Did you mean to do that?” Harvey asks. “Because that was pretty much the textbook definition of a rebound.”

“I’ve wanted to do it for a while, actually.” Mike admits, because fuck, it would all have come out anyway at some point, so why not now. “The fact that I did it tonight was just dutch courage.”

Harvey looks at him again, moves the last pizza box onto the dresser with kind of effortless grace as he does pretty much everything and then suddenly they’re kissing again, more desperately this time. He tastes like Scotch and the way he kisses is all-consuming, so much so that the million reasons they should stop this while they still can which were previously flooding Mike’s brain are all forgotten as Harvey sucks his bottom lip gently between his teeth.

Spurred on by his newfound confidence, Mike brings his hands up to Harvey’s chest and starts to undo his tie as quickly as he can. Harvey responds by deepening the kiss further and gripping Mike’s waist with both hands. The idea of feeling even the faintest of bruises there tomorrow _does_ something to Mike, who lets out a moan between kisses. That, in turn seems to do something to Harvey, who pushes Mike back until he’s basically horizontal and then slips his loosened tie over his head and starts to unbutton his shirt. Mike tugs his own t-shirt off and then pulls Harvey roughly down with him.

Mike’s not gonna lie, he’s imagined this a fair few times, but the reality sends all his senses temporarily into overdrive. The noise Harvey makes when Mike grabs his ass, tentatively at first but then more firmly as Harvey grinds his hips unashamedly in response. The smell of his cologne, which has become so familiar by now, as he kisses down to the base of Harvey’s throat and  back up to his eager lips. The undeniable feeling of him getting hard against Mike’s thigh as he leans into him to discard his shirt and unfasten first his belt, and then his fly.

Harvey rolls off him to allow Mike to shimmy out of his jeans, and Mike seizes this opportunity to take charge of the situation, straddling Harvey’s hips with one hand on the headboard. Harvey looks almost surprised at this, as if he can’t imagine a situation in which he isn’t in total control. Mike has never wanted to dominate anyone so badly.

“Afraid of someone else calling the shots?” He asks, breathily, struggling to keep his hips still as Harvey tries his best to flip them back over. He looks mischievous and far too attractive for his own good like this, pupils dilated and hair mussed from where Mike’s hands have raked through it.

“Why?” Harvey says between kisses. “Are you afraid you can’t handle me?”

“I’ve known you for three years, you’re incapable of following orders.”

Harvey bucks his hips suddenly and the friction causes Mike to let out a stifled “ _Fuck_ ” against Harvey’s neck as he grinds back down, the feeling of Harvey’s cock against his own through only a few layers making him dizzy with how much he wants it. 

“I have a feeling you’re going to be quite persuasive.”

There’s a little too much composure in Harvey’s voice for Mike’s liking, so he reaches between them and rubs Harvey’s cock through his boxers. “I want you so much,” he murmurs as their movements become more erratic.

“What do you want to do to me?” Harvey smirks between the thrusts of Mike’s hips. “If you want the power, you’ve gotta earn it, rookie.”

Mike speeds up his thrusts, fingers moving to lightly circle Harvey’s nipple, eliciting exactly the response he’d hoped for. “I’m not a rookie, and I don’t need to earn shit. You’d do whatever I ask right now with me like this.”

Harvey gives him a smile that’s mostly a challenge, but with the tiniest hint of desperation creeping in there too. It’s a devastatingly good look on him. “Make me.”

The desire to watch Harvey completely come apart in front of him is too much, and Mike is so quick in getting the last of their clothes off and settling back between Harvey’s legs so he can press their cocks together and jerk them both off together that Harvey lets out a gasp of surprise and throws his head back against the pillows. Which, if Mike’s being honest, could well be the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

“Turn over,” he says, hands all over Harvey because now he’s started, he can’t get enough of touching him.

Harvey looks at him and raises an eyebrow but does as he’s told and rolls onto his front, clearly trying to prove he is capable of following orders. He’s hardly even down before Mike is back between his legs, tongue dipping down to lick at his balls, teasingly. He spreads Harvey’s cheeks and pauses for a second, taking in the view of the man spread out beneath him, before swiping his tongue over Harvey’s hole in firm, wet, insistent strokes that make Harvey absolutely _lose it_.

He can tell Harvey loves being rimmed by the way he’s squirming and letting out these deep moans every so often that go straight to Mike’s cock, the kind of moans you’d never expect from someone as composed as Harvey. Mike keeps going with his tongue, starting with sloppy, open-mouthed kisses and then licking slowly and coaxingly until Harvey is relaxed enough. He looks obscene like this, his hole pink and shiny with saliva by the time Mike presses the tip of his tongue inside, feeling it clench around him.

“There’s— _nggh_ ,” Harvey moans, and Mike pulls back to give him a chance to finish. “There’s lube and a condom in my wallet, it’s in the inside pocket of my jacket.”

Mike leans towards the floor briefly, grabs the jacket and fishes Harvey’s wallet from inside. “Thank god you’re the kind of guy who just happens to carry lube around,” he laughs breathlessly as he tears open the packet and coats his fingers, making his way back towards Harvey and tossing the condom aside for now.

Harvey tries his best to sound indignant. “Is that a comment about my promiscuity or— _fuck_ ,” he’s cut short by the feeling of two fingers pressing into him. Mike puts a gentle hand at the base of his spine as he starts fucking him slowly with his fingers, twisting and stretching and all the time watching, transfixed as Harvey opens up around him.

“Mike,” moans Harvey into the pillows. “I know I’m not supposed to be taking charge here, but you’re killing me. I can take it, Just—”

“Just what?” Mike asks innocently, working another finger inside him and earning a gasp in response. 

Harvey pushes himself up onto his forearms and turns to look at him. “Just fuck me, right now, and don’t make me beg for it,” he says simply, reaching down to stroke his cock. He looks completely wrecked.

Kneeling behind him now, Mike makes quick work of the condom and nudges Harvey’s knees further apart, rubbing the head of his cock over his hole to tease him just a little. Slowly—because he knows Harvey is relaxed, but fuck, he’s clenching around him like a vice—Mike starts to press inside, sinking gradually into the tight heat of Harvey’s ass.

“You’re so goddamn tight,” Mike gasps, suddenly short of breath as he starts moving his hips. He grabs Harvey’s waist with both hands and angles his thrusts down, pulling his cock out nearly all the way before pushing back in and watching how Harvey stretches around him. They settle into a steady rhythm, punctuated occasionally by the few barely coherent words they exchange.

Mike knows he’s got the right angle when Harvey almost _growls_ “Fuck, harder” and clenches around his cock. He could string it out and make Harvey wait for it until he’s truly desperate, but Mike himself is close and he desperately wants to feel Harvey come, so he grabs Harvey’s hips with one hand and speeds up his thrusts, reaching round to jerk him off with the other.

Between the drag of Mike’s cock over his prostate every other thrust and Mike’s thumb circling head of his cock as he jerks him off, it isn’t really a surprise that Harvey starts to lose it fairly quickly. He exhales sharply as he comes, Mike fucking him slowly through his orgasm with one hand still firmly on his cock, drawing it out. The way Harvey’s ass starts clenching around him again is what sets Mike off, and he comes inside Harvey with a short and sudden moan.

After a few seconds, during which all his senses and about half of his propensity for rational thought seem to hit him at once, Mike pulls out and discards the condom. Harvey hisses quietly and swats him away with a light-hearted hand as Mike climbs back across him to the middle of the bed and runs a gentle finger over where he’s still a little stretched and open.

“Does this mean you’re finally gonna stop calling me a fucking rookie now?” Mike asks contentedly, hoping he’ll catch Harvey in a blissed out post-coital haze of generosity.

Alas, the fifteen foot wall of snark and calculated decision-making that Harvey seems to have constructed around himself remains as present as ever. He grins. “I would tell you to watch your mouth, rookie, but considering what we just did I don’t think that would be entirely appropriate.”

Mike gives his ass a playful smack in retaliation. “I think,” he switches to a reasonable imitation of Harvey’s voice, “considering what we just did, although you may still be my boss, I definitely own _your_ ass now.”

Harvey quirks an eyebrow and gives him a look which suggests he’s not above putting Mike in the mailroom himself.

 

 


End file.
